


Dancer and His Sheriff

by Lene3161



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Cowboys, Eventual Smut, Friendship, M/M, Q backstory shamelessly adapted from Brideshead Revisited, Q crossdressing in general, Q in a corset, Sheriff Bond, Wild West AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-10-13 08:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17484959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lene3161/pseuds/Lene3161
Summary: Q didn’t intend to have his life turned on its ear. But Mother found him with Charles Ryder, his painter 'friend', and he had to get away.How he became a saloon boy, he never knew. He blamed Eve. But at least it was fun. And the very handsome Sheriff seemed interested in him, so he supposed he could forgive her somewhat.





	1. A Sea Voyage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoraTLG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoraTLG/gifts), [Only_1_Truth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_1_Truth/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tombstone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619034) by [DoraTLG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoraTLG/pseuds/DoraTLG), [Only_1_Truth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_1_Truth/pseuds/Only_1_Truth). 



> I blame DoraTLG and Only_1_Truth, and tr-ashaesthetic’s wild west 00Q aesthetic for this plot bunny. 
> 
> This story has Q working as a blacksmith and part-timing as a saloon boy/male saloon girl? there is no male equivalent. From my research, blacksmithing in those days was in decline thanks to the Industrial Revolution. Q didn’t know as his family lived far away from urban centres. So he supplements his income by working at the saloon. Saloon girls are paid by men to dance with them, and the girls get comissions for every drink sold. Some can earn in a week what the average labourer does in a month. They don’t have sex, just dances, conversation and good company for clients.
> 
> Look, I read Tombstone, saw tr-ashaesthetic's board, stumbled on a wild west article on women's roles and I just...-coughs- wanna write Q as this, ok? 
> 
> Let's just say I'm taking lots of artistic and historical liberty on this fic. I know zilch about historical US and UK. I still do research, but take everything in this fic with a grain of salt.

Sebastian let out the breath he had been holding when he finally couldn’t see London from the ship he was on. He got away. That was it. He didn’t need to be scared anymore. He would start his new life in the Wild West, where he would be the best blacksmith any town could have. He could also find a lover there-a male one. He could actually let go and  _live_ -he wouldn’t need to worry about being hanged for buggery. The cowboys all did it. They even created a new marriage system for it. Sure, it was because of a shortage of women, but surely there would be a couple men who preferred living with men compared to women, just like him. He’ll just find those like-minded men, and he’ll marry them. And then he would get the perfect, carefree life with a man he always dreamed of. Yes-everything would be alright. He’s not leaving everything he ever knew and the stability that came with it just to chase after a silly dream. Of course not. It’ll be alright(it had too, he had nothing left). 

 

“Stop worrying, Sebastian.” His half-brother Bill chided. “Everything would be alright.” He echoed his thoughts.

 

”Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” Sebastian retorted. Bill glared at him in response.

 

”My apologies, Bill. I shouldn’t be snappish at you because I’m scared.” Sebastian murmured, chastised. 

 

“I forgive you, brother.”

 

No more words were spoken. They weren’t needed. 

 

“Do you think Mother will write back if I send letters?” Sebastian couldn’t help but ask. Damn his foolish heart and its stubborn hold on hope.

 

”She will. You’ve always been their favourite. Used to drive me mad, you know. She just...needs time.”

 

”I’ll take your word for it,” Sebastian grumbled. Their mother, Lady Elizabeth Boothroyd neé Marchmain, was a formidable woman who had strong opinions. Entering into a loveless marriage with her first husband, Lord Tanner, she had William "Bill" Tanner within a year, and had no other children. Sebastian suspected that a few herbs were at play, but he could not judge his mother, as she had no other choice-she could hardly say no, after all. And considering the sort of man Willoughby Tanner was, it was for the best the man had no other offspring. The man may have been a decent father, but he was a horrid husband. Bill had not absorbed his father's treatment of his mother, but that didn't guarantee the next child would.

 

After her father died, she inherited all his fortune, as the man had no will, his wife was long-dead and he had no other children aside from his mother. With this blessing, she immediately divorced her husband. Within two years, she married the local blacksmith, Geoffrey Boothroyd, and had Sebastian. He had grown up being taught by a governess and with a blacksmith's training. His mother had tried in vain to stop his father teaching him blacksmithing, saying how it was improper for a future gentleman to work, but his father cared not a fig.

 

"It's important to develop the skills my son had been blessed with! Can't you see his talent?" Father cried out, gesturing to a five-year-old Sebastian's crude horse figurine while at dinner that day. He had seen his father making nails at the anvil and begged to be taught how to make something of his own, and with great assistance, had a flat little toy horse at the end of the day. "Why, he could soon make a new invention and he will make a fortune! And he may need a plan in case the estate falls to ruins. I've seen the figures-we can't keep the estate for long, Lizzy. We have to adapt, we-" By that point, the argument had veered into finances, and Sebastian hurriedly fled the dinner table despite how rude it was. Fifteen-year-old Bill, who was home for the holidays, had comforted him and told him Mother would let Father have his way, as she loved him so much. His father did get what he wanted, and Sebastian learned his father's trade. 

 

"No, she will still love you. She just needs to adjust to this new reality first. Why, she has forgiven Mr. Ryder already-"

 

"She most certainly  _did not_. She only  _accepted_ him, and even that was with great reluctance. If she did not, Julia would be ostracized, along with the family. She had no other choice." Born three years after Sebastian, Julia Boothroyd was an exact copy of their mother in her youth. Unlike Sebastian who had their mother's appearance and their father's personality, Julia was their mother through and through. He got along perfectly well with Julia, as they had been closer in age than to Bill. But she had betrayed him and ran off with Charles. He hated them both; Charles for how easily he abandoned him after Mother found out and Julia for how she had captured Charles' heart.

 

' _Then again, it may not last long, that marriage of theirs. Charles had no inclination towards women-he admitted it to me himself. The only reason he eloped with my sister was because he felt her to be a female version of myself.'_

 

"I know what you're thinking, Sebastian. They're happy together, improbable as it sounds."

 

"Charles has excellent acting skills, brother dear. The only reason he had not become an actor was that he loved painting more than acting. And you know as well as I that Julia is-" At that point, he faltered. Grimacing at his weakness, he hastily took in a deep breath before he continued, "Also a good pretender." Damn them both. And damn Mother too. Why did she have to deviate from habit and take an evening walk with the family past the hedges he and Charles used as a rendezvous point? Even worse, they were found out with him on his hands and knees and Charles in him.

 

Mother had banished Charles, he had been sent to his room and locked in there for three days while Mother and Father 'figured out what to do with him.' But Bill had snuck him bits of news during his forced isolation. Father may not like his leanings but still said that he would much rather have a son who committed buggery than no son at all. Mother had discussed whipping and being dunked in a barrel of water to 'beat it out of him.' Bill simply said that any man as good as his brother must be proof that the buggery laws were unjust and should be changed. Julia said nothing at all. In the end, he was let out of his room and his 'crimes' were pushed down with the (one-sided)understanding of it being a singular occurrence. Things were tense, then Julia and Charles eloped together a week after they were caught in the act.

 

Mother had slapped him, and said, "Look at what your lover has done, Sebastian! He has tainted my son, stolen my daughter and ruined this family!" The lovers returned after two weeks, and Mother threw a feast celebrating their marriage upon their return. He had been forced to attend. At least the married couple had the sense to not say a word to him throughout the celebration. It undoubtedly inflamed the gossipers, wondering why the groom and his brother-in-law were fighting. Some had even tried, subtly and not-so-subtly, to get more gossip by questioning the servants. Thankfully, they didn't divulge anything. The servants of the manor had always been particularly fond of Father and him, as Father had insisted on treating them nicely and for Mother to give them a higher salary. That was the only reason they didn't gossip to anyone why their master's son was a prisoner in his own home. 

 

Bill only sighed. 

 

They stayed out on the deck until it was dinnertime.

 

* * *

 

 

Later in the evening, as they were drifting off to sleep in their cabin(that was a lie, both of them couldn't rest), Bill hesitantly said, "He wanted to have another chance with you. I saw it in his eyes. He was happy with Julia, yes-but he still wanted you." 

 

"If he wanted me, he could have asked for me himself." Sebastian snapped. He pulled the covers over his head.

 

A moment passed. Then, "Why don't you have an affair with him? It would be a very neat solution. He's married, you're his brother-in-law. No suspicion would be directed towards your inversion."

 

Sebastian hesitated. How was he supposed to explain this?

 

"He ran off like a coward", he murmured slowly. "If he had discussed it with me, I would not have objected to him marrying a woman. Not our sister, I will never have her married due to such a reason, but still-a marriage for him. Perhaps it makes me a hypocrite, but-" He didn't know what else to say.

 

"It's the choice."

 

"Yes! It's the choice. You've always known me best, Bill. Our relationship-it's a thing fraught with the constant fear of discovery. I would have done anything to get rid of it. But buggery is seen as a sin, and marriage between two men not an option. So you see-I would not mind him being married, it would decrease the possibility of us being caught in the act. No one suspects a married man of buggery. But such a step needed a long talk, and promises. Promises of him loving me and  _only_ me, of being true to our secret. There was none of that. What he did-it's an act of pure selfishness. He wanted me, but couldn't, so he ran off with my sister who resembled me. He gave me sorrow, and gave her a husband who could not feel for her as she did. You saw how she looked at him-she genuinely loved him. All this time, and she genuinely had feelings for him. I was just too blind to see it. But he didn't love her. It makes me wonder just whose idea this whole elopement business was." But it didn't matter. In the end, Julia and Charles were married and he wept in secret, his heart feeling as though it was ripped apart by a pack of wild wolves.

 

After another pause, Bill finally said, "I understand now. Get some rest," he added gruffly, his voice thick with emotion. "You had a long day. You need it."

 

"Yes, sir." Sebastian murmured cheekily. Not as cheerfully as he would have before the whole incident, but still with some of his usual fire. He wondered if the heavy weight of grief would ever recede. But he pushed those thoughts away. It _will_ recede, as his life would pick up. He refused to allow his past to taint his present. He would build a new life free from the chains of his old life, and he would thrive. He would not let the Church, his family nor anyone else get him down and defeat him.

 

* * *

 

It was the afternoon of the second day of their trip. They were loitering about on the deck again. Bill looked hesitant. He kept glancing between Sebastian and the sea. Tired of his nervousness, Sebastian finally snapped, "What do you want to ask me? And do not lie-I know how you look when you are curious, Bill."

 

"Do you regret it?"

 

Sebastian paused. Mulling it over, he murmured, "I don't know."

 

Silence passed between them. Sebastian finally said, "I suppose I regret the end of our relationship. But before the end, everything was-it was just so  _beautiful_ ," he said rapturously.

 

"Forgive me, my brother. I could not stop this monstrosity from happening."

 

"It was my choice to leave, Bill."

 

"That was not what I meant."

 

"I  _know_. But still-I have you and Father. I don't need Mother, Julia, and Charles. I will be fine."

 

"It is hasty nonetheless. Sebastian, say the word, and the moment we land I will take you back. I swear upon Uncle Boothroyd's life-"

 

"That's quite enough, Bill."

 

"Alright, Sebastian."

 

Sebastian wondered if Bill actually understood his position. Mother hated him for buggery, Julia and Charles wanted him to stay out of their sights; the former not wanting the reminder of what her husband did and the latter to not feel regret, Father looked at him like a stranger. Bill himself treated his brother differently. It had taken him only two weeks after the wedding feast to get tired of his treatment and decide to go to the States. He declared his intention to his family over dinner. Mother had quivered briefly before nodding at him stiffly. Julia and Charles looked regretful, but Julia's face had hope plastered on it for a second before she wrestled it down. Charles just looked sorrowful. Father gaped at him and looked as though he was about to say something, but decided not to. Bill had immediately said he would go with him to help with settling down before returning. To this, the family objected most strenuously. But he got his way in the end.

 

Sebastian took six months to settle his affairs and pack. He had taken all the tools he used in the forge. Father had looked at him placing all the tools he made himself as a gift for reaching his majority into a trunk without saying a word. Sebastian uncharitably thought he was probably mourning the fact that all the hard work he poured into those tools were wasted as they were to be taken away by his sinning son. Only Father and Bill's friends came to the harbour to see them off. Being a solitary person, he did not socialize much, and had no friends of his own. The village had tittered over his eccentricities before moving on to more interesting gossip. Mother had told everyone it was a 'family misunderstanding' that made him leave, and requested nobody come to 'teach him a lesson', and as she was more loved in their neighbourhood than him, everybody, even his sympathetic acquaintances who wanted to come to make him feel less alone, obliged. Bill's friends thought him wonderfully rebellious and had given him a toast in his honour. Before they went on the ship, Father looked at him hesitantly before hugging him, and saying, "I know I haven't treated you right after this whole thing came out. But let me tell you-I love you, and I always will. Write to me, will you?"

 

Sebastian had burst into loud sobs at that. He hugged Father and told him he would, before apologizing for not being able to spend his father's elderly days with him. He went on the ship while looking at his father all the while. He wondered if there would be a day where people like him would not be reviled, where they were allowed to just  _be_. But those were daydreams, and he had to face reality-he would be away and his family happier. He would adapt. He would move on and find his own happiness. It would look different than theirs, but it would be his. And that was what mattered, and what they could not accept.

 

"I'll write. I promise." Bill's soft utterance broke him out of his memories. "You're my brother, and you always will be."

 

"Thank you, Bill. For everything."

 

"Don't. There is no need to thank me. This is the least I could do for you."

 

The two brothers looked at the sea. They spent the afternoon together in silence, as no words needed to be said. 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 90% of this chapter is adapted from Kirsten Larson’s story(yes, the AG doll).
> 
> And from research, Tombstone was created when northeners found silver and built in 1879, but this story is in early 1880. It was near ranches so there was plenty of cowboys, and Q has work because miners need tools and such. I have no idea of the advances in the machinery of that era, so again, lots of artistic license. Let's say Tombstone is beginning to develop, and blacksmiths have flocked there.
> 
> Cowboy hats are a bit of a misconception. Most cowboys wore regular bowler hats, and I think only Mexican vaqueros wore them at that time. Speaking of which, most cowboy stuff seemed to be taken from them.
> 
> And I used old language used to describe different races, which may sound racist, so be warned.
> 
> It's a bit ironic I wrote Q as someone who's floundering in a changing era when Skyfall is all about him being ultra modern. It's hilarious, especially because it's one of the old guard telling him times are changing.

Sebastian and Bill staggered down the gangway to New York soil, where the harsh American twang sounded around them. They were so used to the ship's movements that they stumbled along on dry land. Bill looked like he was about to start heaving, but Sebastian's grin almost split his face in half. Turning to his brother, he said, "Why don't you go and sit on that bench over there, Bill?" Bill nodded tremulously.

 

Trying not to laugh at his brother's pallor, Sebastian got a porter to bring their luggage down near his brother. Once they were done, he turned to his brother only to find him frowning. Before Sebastian could ask what was wrong, Bill said "You shouldn't have done that, Sebastian. When Mr. Trevelyan comes, you'll have to pay the porters again to load the trunks into his carriage."

 

Sebastian groaned. He'd just wasted his money. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he muttered a few rather unsavoury things he overheard from the sailors. Shrugging his blunder off, he told Bill to watch their things while he bought food for the both of them and Mr. Trevelyan.

 

 

Sebastian was having the time of his life looking around as he shopped. He had gone to London once before with Mother when she sold her townhouse, but New York was so incredibly different from London. New York had Americans, for one. There were black people and people from the Far East, and Indian people. London also had them, but Sebastian hadn't caught more than a glimpse of them in London because the area Mother's townhouse was in didn't have many foreigners. People also dressed differently. Suits and dresses were of a different cut and materials. Most clothes seemed to be made of cotton. Sebastian almost felt out of place in his foreign-cut linen suit, but he saw a man wearing a long white robe with what looked like a scarf wrapped round his head and a beard that reached his chest feeding tomato slices to a monkey; and decided he probably fit in just fine among New York's cast of characters. Everybody was certainly odd enough that no 'standard' person existed.

 

Sebastian went into a bakery and bought half a dozen rolls. Three were meat-filled, and the other three were plain. Sebastian devoured one meat-filled roll as he walked to the milk and cheese shop across the bakery. He bought a small hunk of delicious cheese he had never tried before from an olive-skinned woman who had offered him a free sample in perfect American English. He was surprised, which was just foolish. People had come to America and had families for years, after all, so it was no wonder there were some with a different skin colour who was very American. She called the cheese Asiago, and told him that the Italians had been making it for centuries. He also bought some camembert in case Bill didn't like it. Thanking her, he walked back to the harbour with a paper bag filled with his purchases.

 

* * *

 

As he neared the spot he remembered Bill's bench being, he realized it was empty and their luggage had disappeared. Where had Bill gone off to? Surely he wouldn't abandon him, right?

 

"Ah, Mr. Flyte! We have been waiting for you!" A deep English voice boomed at him some distance away from Bill's bench. Turning to face the speaker, he saw a blond with green eyes and a burn scar on the right side of his face waving at him from a carriage. It was their agent, Mr. Alec Trevelyan. "And you're wearing proper clothes, unlike your brother. Good!" he said as Sebastian entered the carriage. Sebastian saw that his brother was asleep in the seat opposite Mr. Trevelyan's.

 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Trevelyan. Do you mind calling me Q? I prefer it to Sebastian. And Bill certainly wears proper clothing, he's better dressed than I am." Bill had worn his very best suit the day they were due to dock, claiming that he wanted to greet Q's new home in style. Q had simply shook his head at his brother's eccentricities.

 

Mr. Trevelyan knocked twice on the carriage ceiling to signal the driver to start their journey to the train station. The carriage started rattling along.

 

"Certainly, Mr. Q. And what I mean by proper clothes is a suit made of light summer material. Your brother is wearing a wool suit in the middle of summer and sweating bullets. I'm glad you took my advice or bringing a linen or cotton suit, the American summer is much hotter than England's. I had to give your brother some ice I bought from an ice cart so he can cool down. Then he promptly fell asleep. I think the heat tired him out."

 

Q snorted. "He said he wanted to look his best when he sees my new home. Unfortunately, his best clothes are made of wool."

 

Mr. Trevelyan laughed. "Ah, the oddities of siblings. My friend, James Bond, is a sheriff, and he's like my brother. He came here first, and wore a pair of leather chaps and a cowboy hat over a dinner jacket when he welcomed me to America. You see, my ship docked in the evening, and he promised to bring me to a play in New York. He said he wanted to welcome me cowboy-style! I laughed right in his face; he simply looked ridiculous wearing that ensemble."

 

Q laughed, too. He didn't know how a cowboy hat looked or what leather chaps were, but his agent's good mood was raising his.

 

"By God, everybody must be staring at him! Did he wear it the whole night?"

 

"I wish. He took it off after we put my things in a hotel. He wouldn't wear it again, no matter how much I wheedled him to. I even dared him and offered bribes to no avail. But looking back now, I realized he was trying to cheer me up after a long, hard trip. It was an incredibly nice thing of him to do."

 

Q shook his head, still grinning. He wondered what kind of man Bond was, to do something so silly to make his friend smile. He must be a kind man, the sort of man who made a perfect sheriff.

 

"I'm glad you have such a good friend, Mr. Trevelyan. If Bill and I were in your and his shoes, I would never do it, and that's saying something considering how much I love him!"

 

"Indeed. I'm grateful to have him every day of my life. I'm sure you feel the same way about Mr. Tanner."

 

"Definitely. He's been a good friend since I was very young, despite our large age gap."

 

"Speaking of ages, just how  _young_ are you, Mr. Q? You look twenty, not nearly old enough to be a good blacksmith." Mr. Trevelyan said suspiciously.

 

Young? Really? Q knew he looked younger and softer than most blacksmiths, but it was understandable because they worked much harder than him regularly. 

 

 

 

 

 

"I'm twenty-two. And I'm an excellent blacksmith. Trust me, Mr. Trevelyan. I'm good at what I do."

 

"But you're not a  _real_ blacksmith, aren't you? You're landed gentry. How do I know you'll do your job well and take it seriously?"

 

"My family had disowned me. I have no other people who would be willing to support me. Believe me, I'm more than ready to start working for a living."

 

Mr. Trevelyan looked guilty and awkward for making the atmosphere tense. He immediately apologized for reminding Q of his family. Q accepted the apology. It was understandable, really, that he wanted to make sure his town got a proper blacksmith. Tombstone was a fledgling town but Q had a feeling it would be one of those big boomtowns he read about because of the mines. Q intended to take advantage of Tombstone's need for skilled metalworkers and proximity to ranches(and cowboys) as much as he could.

 

"Mr. Q, I'll be frank with you-but I think you need to start training for a different job." Mr. Trevelyan said gently, in the manner of one imparting bad news.

 

Q was just about to retort when he continued on. "You see, the factories and machines have started replacing blacksmiths. It's been happening since the 30s, when machines started making pins. Now nails, needles and pot hooks have become mass-produced. I heard the production of door hinges have just been industrialised. I know it’s the little things like that which are the lifeblood of smiths everywhere. I'm certain within the next five years someone would figure out how to make metal tools in a factory, and where would you be? You seem very intelligent, you'll thrive in any field you choose."

 

Q paused. He hadn't considered how the Industrial Revolution would affect his career. It was stupid, really, for him not to think of it. His old village had been dying out as people moved away to cities to find factory jobs. There were stories of how in the cities machines churned out everything from beer to furniture. And what prevented people from inventing new ways of producing metal goods? The factories had produced so many things, after all. Abruptly, Q felt the bright future he had envisioned for himself fall apart.

 

"But Tombstone still needs blacksmiths, don't they?" Q hated how his voice sounded pleading.

 

"Yes, we do. But times are changing, Mr. Q. We need to change with them, too. Look, a man in town called Gareth Mallory has a gun shop. I heard he's going to try and be town mayor in the next election. That would mean no one's going to run his shop as he doesn't have any children or relatives. Why don't you start working with him when you arrive? He's going to need an assistant soon with the way the town is growing. The pay's not going to be as good as blacksmithing, but the job will stay longer."

 

Q swallowed. "I'll heed your advice, Mr. Trevelyan. But I think I'll work as a blacksmith for some time first, get myself a bit of money before trying out the assistant job."

 

"Alright. I wish you luck, Mr. Q, wherever your future leads."

 

Q thanked him absentmindedly, mind still reeling at the uncertainties he would be facing. They remained quiet the whole journey to the train station.


End file.
